Just a Fine Line
by forthecoast
Summary: Danny's words follow Jane all the way back to Sacramento. In the aftermath of seeing his brother-in-law, Jane comes to terms with guilt and gratitude. Jane/Lisbon, post-ep for 3x02.


**Title:** Just a Fine Line  
**Rating:** K+  
**Disclaimer:** Not it.  
**Spoilers:** 3x02 (Cackle-Bladder Blood)  
**Summary: **Danny's words follow Jane all the way back to Sacramento. In the aftermath of seeing his brother-in-law, Jane comes to terms with guilt and gratitude. Jane/Lisbon, post-ep for 3x02.  
**Author's Note: **I was not going to start something else with all of the ongoing writing projects I have right now, but the minute the episode ended, I knew that fighting the urge to get this written would be impossible. And here we are.

For Chibs and Yana, for reasons that are probably too numerous to list here. Especially for Chibs, since her birthday present is going to be late. I should also take a moment to thank Yana, not only for betaing, but suggesting the title - which she adapted from an Azure Ray song leftover from the titles I suggested for her fic, Make Your Heart. It was a joint effort of sorts, and definitely why we make a good team.

I absolutely loved this episode; I hope I did it justice.

xxxxx

wait, don't give up on us yet  
i know that there's more you haven't told  
-Vienna Teng

xxxxx

Guilt makes you a mark. Jane knows this better than anyone.

He spent a lifetime cheating weak and desperate people out of their money; his justification the erroneous notion that he gave them something to believe in during their darkest times, that he restored some semblance of peace in their lives. His wife had been the only person who saw him for what he really was: a thief, a con man. And she had loved him anyway.

It had not always been like that. They were young when they met, only seventeen, yet by no means naive. She brought light into his life and, for the first time, hope, real and tangible. When they ran away together, it had been to escape their world, but he ended up dragging her back into it.

All he wanted to do was provide a life for her and for their daughter, to provide them with the stability and resources they did not have before.

But pride makes you a mark as well.

His pride had been his ultimate downfall. He had been a fool, and he had paid for it dearly.

As he drives down the interstate, inching closer and closer to Sacramento, his thoughts never stray far from Danny's final words at the cemetery. The words that echo in his head long after he and Danny parted ways. The words that unsettle him when they were meant to offer him relief. Instead of easing his guilt, they serve to strengthen it.

Danny doesn't know guilt. The people he hurts are inconsequential and unimportant, because Danny no longer has anyone left to lose.

Jane does.

He maneuvers his Citroën onto the next exit ramp before he is even fully conscious of his actions. There's something he has to do before he gets back to Sacramento.

xxx

Under the cover of night, Jane slips back into the CBI building unnoticed. Darkness fell several hours ago, and all he wants is to disappear into the attic to rest for a few hours before morning. He exits the elevator on the fifth floor, but before he can escape into his refuge, a light from the corner office beckons to him.

Lisbon is still here.

Before he can stop himself, his legs carry him towards her door. He watches as she works, smiling to himself as her hair falls across her face, fully shielding him from her view. She has called him family, admonished him for trying to pull away, and still she remains his anchor, tethering him to reality even when he wants to let go.

His fist raps softly against the doorframe, and she looks up, startled. Then she grins.

"Didn't I tell you I'd see you on Monday?"

He shrugs, feigning innocence. "I remember you saying something about how I should get lost for a few days."

Jane approaches her desk and leans forward; she scoffs. "I believe my exact words were that you should take a few days and I would call you if a case came in."

"Eh," he winks, then gives her a pointed look and gestures dramatically with one hand. "Potato, potahto."

Setting the rest of her paperwork to one side, she sits back casually in her chair. She tilts her head to one side, studying him intently. "How were things with Danny?" she asks, direct and to the point.

"He's still the same person he was when he was 14," he says distractedly, eyeing a spot on the wall behind her. "I appreciate what you did for him. For both of us."

He expects her to make another comment about not being able to hear him, but instead, he hears her voice, soft and steady, drawing him back in.

"He's your family, Jane."

An edge of sadness tinges her words, and it prompts him to slip his hand inside his pocket and retrieve the carefully-wrapped parcel, placing it in front of her.

"Since you won't let me say 'thank you,'" he announces.

She eyes him warily. "This isn't going to explode when I unwrap it, right?" she deadpans.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

Cautiously, she slides one finger underneath the tape, breaking the seal. She inhales softly when the paper falls away, revealing its contents, and makes no attempt to conceal her smile.

"It's an elephant," she says slowly, her eyes alight as she carefully weighs her gift in the palm of one hand.

"It's a paperweight," he explains. "I picked it up in Berkeley. I figured since you and Daisy got along so well..."

She laughs. "Don't make me throw this at you."

He moves as if to duck, then corrects his posture. The expression on her face is so genuine, so real, that he almost falters. She fingers the glass paperweight gingerly, obviously touched by his gift.

He keeps his eyes on her, afraid that if he looks away, the moment will be broken. He is used to her reactions to grand gestures or surprises, but not to gifts like this.

When she looks up, he feels an involuntary tightening in his chest.

"Thank you, Jane." Lisbon watches him with caution, as though she is weighing her next statement. When she begins to speak, he understands why. Her voice is slow but unwavering. "You went to the cemetery, didn't you? You and Danny."

Her question, altogether unexpected, leaves him reeling, but a lifetime of performing has equipped him with the ability to mask his surprise in only a few seconds. Still, he wants to be honest with her, and he nods in confirmation. "It was the first time I'd been since the funeral," he admits softly, willing his voice not to break.

Momentarily distracted by his own memories, Jane does not notice when she rises from her desk and moves to stand beside him until she taps him on the shoulder. Her touch is brief, tentative, and she motions him over to the couch. Without argument, he follows her implied instructions, letting himself be led for a change. He expects her to sit at the opposite end of the couch, but she surprises him by sitting down next to him, close but not touching. Bridging the gap, he reaches out and interlaces their fingers together, palm against palm.

Moved by the suddenly overwhelming urge to confide in her, Jane squeezes her hand just a little bit tighter, averting his gaze. "Danny said that guilt is for marks." He pauses, blinking away the fatigue that threatens to overtake him. "He's right. My wife would have hated that."

The silence that fills up the room when he finishes threatens to swallow him whole. Jane cautions a glance at Lisbon out of the corner of his eye, only to find her still, like a statue, seemingly lost in her own world for a few minutes. With an audible breath, she finally breaks her trance and pulls his hand into her lap.

"Maybe on some level he's right, but I don't agree," she says matter-of-factly, determination shining in her eyes as she stares back at him.

Mesmerized, Jane waits patiently for her to continue.

"The night my mom died, I was spending the night at a friend's house, but we had a fight. It was just stupid kid stuff, but I called her to come pick me up." She releases an unsteady breath and looks away, but he refuses to release his grip on her hand. "She never made it."

"Oh, Lisbon," he exhales. "It wasn't your..." he pauses, realizing what she almost made him admit. She tilts her head to look at him, and the sadness in her eyes confirms the truth of her story. Her lips curl into the beginnings of a weak but impish smile. He grins back in spite of himself, and his reply is both soothing and self-deprecating. "Well played, Teresa."

Her thumb gently strokes the back of his hand, and she bites her bottom lip tentatively. Her trepidation comes as no surprise; sharing something like that does not come naturally to either of them.

"It took me years to stop blaming myself; Dad never did. But what I'm saying is..." she pauses with a sigh, casting her eyes downward before looking back up, resolute. "Guilt doesn't make you a mark; it makes you human."

Lisbon withdraws her hand from his grip, and he feels the loss acutely. Her confessions leave him shaken, so much so that he does not notice when she withdraws not only physically, but emotionally as well, obviously uncomfortable with the amount of information she just willingly shared about her past. The past she _never_ talks about.

"Why did you come back early?" she asks suddenly. "I told you that you could have until Monday."

"They aren't there anymore." His admission comes softly, a half whisper that fades away in the near darkness that surrounds them.

"You're a good man, Jane. They would be proud of you."

Tears begin to form at the corners of his eyes, but he blinks them away. After a minute has passed, he dares to meet her gaze again. Her eyes shine with unparalleled honesty, and her unwavering faith in him gives him pause, causes his chest to ache.

They are treading dangerous waters now, teetering on the edge of truths that neither is quite ready to face.

Jane feels lighter, unburdened, as he flashes his best disarming smile in her direction.

Lisbon quirks an eyebrow suspiciously; she is not fooled.

"I was thinking," he begins, pause drawn out for effect. "The county fair opens tomorrow, and I know Pete and Samantha would love to see you again."

She snorts derisively in response. "I'm not so sure about that."

"No, no," he protests. "Pete specifically asked me to tell you that he has no hard feelings about the handcuffs." At her disbelieving look, he raises his hands in mock surrender.

"What? He did!"

She scowls at this. He grins.

"So, what do you say? Let's break the monotony of your weekends off. Come with me tomorrow."

"I tell you what," she deliberates cautiously. "Promise not to drive off and strand me there, and I'll think about it."

Jane laughs, and Lisbon joins in, almost in spite of herself. The uninhibited sound echoes against the office walls; it reverberates deep inside him, awakening feelings he thought were long buried. Here, with her, there is no guilt; he is neither mark nor con man. He thought he had forgotten.

But he remembers this.

xxxxx


End file.
